


Weevils Wobble…But do They Fall Down?

by zinke



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-02
Updated: 2008-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Does that mean you're volunteering for my little venture then, Captain Harkness?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weevils Wobble…But do They Fall Down?

**Author's Note:**

> Bubbly, bubbly, lovely Bubbles! In case you haven't already guessed, this is my entry for Bubblefic 2008, written for ladysarahii who requested _Doctor Who_ , Jack/Martha and a water slide. Sounded like a good time to me and now that it's finished I hope she'll agree.
> 
> I'm sorry to say that I have never been to either Devon or Goodrington Beach; I ran a Google search for water parks in the UK and the rest as they say is history, so any geographic inaccuracies are due wholly to my non-existent travel budget. For those who watch Torchwood, this story was written before the new series began to air, and as a result now deviates slightly from series canon.
> 
> Many thanks as always to my beta reader caz963 who this time 'round taught me the true distance of a meter ("100 meters is rather high") and showed me how to sound like a cranky old Englishman.

"We have two victims to date. The first, Angela Whitcomb of Exeter, was found by her husband in the family's back garden after dark, having sustained multiple deep lacerations to her neck and torso. She expired as a direct result of her injuries a few hours later at Royal Devon & Exeter Hospital. The second victim, Michael Hanson of Lower Brimley was only slightly more fortunate in that his injuries were much more extensive and consequently he died only minutes after being attacked. As you can see, wound type and pattern in both cases are almost identical."

One of the men seated at the table raised a tentative hand. "Sir, forgive me for asking, but these cases appear to be nothing more than a series of run-of-the-mill animal attacks which are unusual, certainly, but not unheard of. What's our interest here?"

The Colonel's gaze hardened slightly before he continued, resolutely disregarding the question put to him. "We have only a single eye-witness report, given by a neighbor of Mrs. Whitcomb's who happened to be walking her dog on the evening of the attack. She described the subject as being," the Major paused to set his glasses upon his nose, then lifted a page from the table and read aloud, "a giant mole-type creature with no nose, huge teeth and a badly receded hairline." Dropping his hand to his side, he pinned his questioner with a sharp, challenging look. "Does that answer your question, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir," the other man said contritely, sinking back into his chair.

"Good," the Colonel replied shortly before returning his attention to the documents spread on the table before him. "U.N.I.T.'s objective is to locate and to contain the target if possible for further study, although lethal force has been authorized due to the apparent risk to the public. Given the rather urgent nature of the situation, we'll be sending a team into the field immediately."

His report finally complete, Colonel Spencer surveyed the faces of those sitting at the table, only to find each of those in attendance staring back at him blankly. All, that is, save one.

"Doctor Jones, is there anything you'd like to add?"

From the opposite end of the conference table, Martha straightened slightly in her seat, the knowing smile on her lips never wavering as she replied with confidence, "No, Sir. But I do know just the man for the job."

 

* * * *

Jack Harkness blew out a heavy sigh as he leaned back and rested his head against the back of his chair, then reached up to rub at his tired eyes. He'd just read the same paragraph for a second time and for the second time had not taken in a single word of it. This was the part of the job he hated – the reports, the paperwork, the hours in-between cases spent in the Hub without a mystery to solve or an alien to track down. He had always been a man of action, now more so than ever before. Staying in motion kept him from dwelling too long on certain, immutable realities about his life that were better left unconsidered.

Raising his head carefully, Jack opened his eyes and heaved another weary sigh. For today, though, the streets of Cardiff were quiet, the Rift calm, and so here he was rifling through stacks of files in the hope of finding some mystery he and his team could focus their energies on. "Third time's a charm," he muttered sourly as he grudgingly returned his attention to the sheaf of papers spread across his desk.

"Jack Harkness – why is a dashing hero such as yourself sitting at his desk? And doing something as mundane as paperwork, no less."

Jack's head snapped up painfully at the sound of the voice coming unexpectedly from his office doorway. His look of surprise melted into a genuine smile when he took in the sight of a familiar figure leaning casually against the door frame. "If it isn't Martha Jones! How'd you get in here?"

"With that sort of greeting you're lucky you're out of slapping range, mister," she replied with a conciliatory grin, then hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "At least Ianto knows how make a girl feel welcome; he offered me a coffee."

"He does that for everyone; it's sort of his thing."

"So I'm just another visitor then, am I?"

"'Course not," Jack replied as he rose from his chair to enfold Martha in a warm hug she readily returned, relaxing into his arms with a contented sigh.

"Now," he said once he'd released her, "to what do I owe this unexpected but entirely welcome pleasure?"

"Well," she replied coming around to lean against the corner of his desk, "how do you fancy a trip to the beach?"

"Would it mean I'd finally get to see you in a bikini?"

"Not a chance," she replied with a cheeky grin. "But if you're lucky you might get a glimpse of this lovely creature instead," she said, pulling a file from her bag and handing it to him.

His curiosity piqued, Jack flipped open the manila cover and began to peruse the file's contents. It took only a few lines for him to realize just why it was Martha had made her trip to Cardiff and Torchwood Three. "Weevil attack, by the looks of it."

Martha nodded. "I remembered you describing something similar a few months back. But I thought you'd said they came through the Rift; how do you think one got all the way down to Devon?"

"They do come through the Rift, though we're still not clear on how or why. Every so often one'll go rogue and start killing people, but usually they don't move too far outside of Cardiff. I've never heard of one getting quite this far afield, which can't be a good sign." Jack looked up from the pages in his hand to regard her seriously. "Martha, Weevils are dangerous under the best of circumstances. You shouldn't be going after this thing on your own."

"Does that mean you're volunteering for my little venture then, Captain Harkness?" Martha asked with a jaunty smile.

Jack offered her a dashing grin in return as he snapped the file closed. "I'll bring the suntan lotion."

 

* * * *

Jack eased the Range Rover onto the southbound carriage of the M5 while Martha flipped through the pages of a thick file set on her lap. "I had no idea you had so many of them living in Cardiff."

"Several hundred and those are only the ones we know of. As for how many originally came through the Rift and how many were born here on Earth, it's hard to say."

"It must have been terrifying for them," she said thoughtfully. "To have been pulled into this world with little to no warning and without any way of understanding of what was happening to them."

"Maybe, although there are beings who move through the Rift and use its power by choice rather than by chance."

"The same way the Doctor uses it to refuel the TARDIS?"

There was a heavy pause before Jack replied, his voice carefully controlled, "Yes, like the Doctor."

The silence hung thick between them for several minutes before Jack spoke again, his tone deceptively casual. "Heard from him lately?"

Martha continued to stare out the window, tracking the scenery as it blurred past. "Nope. Not a peep." She paused before adding softly, "For the best, really."

Jack did his best to keep his expression schooled into one of casual interest but couldn't help commenting, "It is that," just under his breath.

"What?" Off her question, Jack's gaze darted to the passenger seat, where Martha, who had obviously overheard him, was now watching him with interest.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he returned his focus to the road ahead. "Same here. Of course, I wasn't exactly expecting him to be making visits for anything other than the occasional pit-stop."

"Why not?"

"Let's face it; no matter what he and I may have been through together, I'm never going to be one of his favourite people, and visits for a spot of tea and sympathy are the last thing I want or need."

"That's not fair. He did ask you to travel with him again."

"Yeah," he barked out on a laugh, the sound harsh even to his own ears. "Sure he did. And if you actually thought the offer was genuine then you're a lot more gullible than I thought."

Martha regarded him silently for a moment, the hurt evident in the tense line of her mouth. When it became clear that no apology or further explanation would be forthcoming she turned away, settling her gaze on the empty ribbon of tarmac stretching out before them.

Fighting to regain control of his emotions, Jack tightened his grip on the steering wheel and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he eventually offered, his voice softer.

"Jack," she replied, reaching out to rest a gentle hand on his arm, "You've got to find some way to forgive him. It's not easy – believe me, I know – but you're not doing yourself any favours carrying around all this anger. There are much better things you could be putting that energy towards, don't you think?"

He could feel the warmth of her hand, even through the heavy wool sleeve of his coat and like a balm it seemed to bring him a peace he had as yet been unable to find for himself. Turning his attention from the road ahead, he met her eyes with a tender, appreciative gaze which she held, her expression open, unafraid – and wholly engrossing.

Belatedly Jack realized that he had other things he should be watching and reluctantly pulled his eyes from his companion's and returned them to the road ahead. "What kind of things did you have in mind?" he replied a beat later, as his gentle smile slowly curled into a seductive grin.

"And I thought the Doctor'd been exaggerating when he said that's all you think about."

"Don't knock it 'till you try it, Doctor Jones."

Martha merely laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Ah, here we are," Jack said a few minutes later as he pulled the car to a stop at the side of the road. "Lower Brimley. This was the Weevil's last known location, right?"

Martha nodded slowly, her eyes scanning the heavily wooded landscape with its marked lack of houses, street traffic and other customary signs of habitation with mounting dismay. "How are we even going to know where to start?"

"See, that's the problem with you U.N.I.T. people; you guys always see the glass as half-empty," Jack replied as he pulled on the handbrake. "Now, under your seat there should be a small black case."

"This one?" she grunted as she pulled the heavy container up and into her lap.

"That's it. We're going to need what's inside."

Martha flipped open the latch and after raising the lid carefully pulled out the object in question. Turning it over in her hands, she studied the bulky handset with skepticism. "And this thing's going to help us how?" she asked, flicking a finger at the thick, waxy antenna.

"I know it's not much to look at but that 'thing' has saved my ass more times than I can count. It taps into Torchwood's computer tracking system and uses a species' distinct biorhythm signature to triangulate its exact location."

"All that from a decrepit mobile phone?" Martha asked incredulously.

Jack gave her a knowing smile. "Just turn it on."

Martha flipped a switch on the side of the case and the device immediately began to emit a steady pattern of high-pitched pings. "And we're in business!" Jack exclaimed as he threw the car into gear and pulled back onto the road.

"Completely unbearable, you are," Martha muttered even as she gave him an encouraging smile.

 

* * * *

Some time later, Jack eased the Range Rover to a stop in a largely deserted car park set tight against the beach. "How are we doing?"

"We're close. According to this, the Weevil's a few hundred meters North-Northeast of us, which would put it… somewhere in there," she concluded, giving a nod in the direction of a water park on the far side of the car park. Looking up she gave Jack a teasing smile. "Maybe it just needed a holiday."

"Well, Cardiff can be a bit dreary this time of year," he replied with equal humor as he opened the car door and stepped out into a bracing sea breeze. "And let's face it; who wouldn't want to catch a few rays here in balmy Goodrington Beach?"

Martha quickly descended from the vehicle, wincing slightly as the sharp chill of the wind bit at her cheeks. After a quick look at the tracking device, she began to lead the way across the parking lot towards the entrance to the amusement park, a brightly colored edifice made all the more garish by the contrast with the steel grey clouds that were flowing rapidly across the sky. Jack followed only a step or two behind, eyes carefully scanning the surrounding area for any indication of movement, his hand settled lightly on the handle of the revolver at his waist.

Other than the occasional scrap of litter skating across the pavement the area was still; the chill of early spring seemed to have driven the few off-season tourists indoors and many of the town's seaside attractions had yet to open their doors for the summer. "Couldn't have set the scene better if I'd tried," Jack muttered to himself as he squinted against the wind, stopping short when he caught at a flash of movement on the other side of the park's ticket window, less than a hundred meters ahead.

He stared, unwavering, at the spot, his gaze following the lines of each shadow, searching for confirmation of what he thought he had seen. Only a few seconds later he saw it again: a squat, bulky figure shuffled across the space, its form slightly distorted behind the glass of a window. His suspicion confirmed, Jack pulled his gun from its place at his side and turned to alert Martha, whose focus was still on the locator in her hand, her steps steady as she continued to follow its signal, unaware of the danger he'd spotted lurking only a short distance ahead of her.

Pushing himself into a jog, he caught up with Martha, reaching out to silently pull her to a stop with a restraining hand on her shoulder. Startled by the contact, Martha turned, the beginnings of a question on her lips. Jack quickly raised his index finger to his mouth to silence her, shaking his head quickly for emphasis. He raised his chin slightly in the direction of the building ahead of them, hoping that the grave set of his features would be able to telegraph the rest. Martha's gaze darted off for only a moment before returning to meet his. She nodded slowly in acknowledgement.

Taking the locator from Martha's hands, Jack switched it off and slipped it into his coat pocket as she dropped back behind him.

Eyes trained on the ticketing booth and with weapon raised, Jack moved quickly across the pavement towards the park entrance, with Martha following only a couple steps behind him. Through the filthy glass of the ticket window he could see the figure still moving restlessly back and forth in the dimly lit space, apparently unaware of their approach.

Reaching the building, they both pulled up tightly along side, sidestepping their way carefully along the length of the wall until Jack reached the corner and was able to hazard a glance around the side. "There's a doorway about ten feet ahead. It's open," he whispered to Martha, who had come to stand so close behind him that he could feel her body heat through the heavy wool of his coat. The answering touch of her hand against his shoulder was all the signal he needed; adjusting his grip on his revolver, he moved cautiously around the side of the building, pausing just beside the entryway to cast a commanding glance back at Martha. "Stay here."

"Like hell!"

"We do _not_ have the time to debate this right now," he hissed impatiently.

"Let's get on with it then, shall we?" she replied in a tone that left no room for further argument.

Jack took a final, steadying breath, then swung himself around and through the open door, bringing him to face to face with a grubby-looking, obviously human older man dressed in a pair of oily coveralls cinched at the waist by an over-laden tool belt. "What the 'ell d'you think you're playin' at?" the man exclaimed, dropping the wrench in his hand with a clatter as he raised his hands high above his head.

"Sorry, sorry," Jack quickly replied, raising both hands in a similar gesture and lifting his finger from the trigger of his gun.

The man lowered his arms only slightly as his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "'Sorry' s'not gonna keep me from callin' the police –"

"S'all right! We're not thieves," Martha called hurriedly from the doorway as she stepped across the threshold and came to stand beside Jack. "I'm Martha Jones, and this is Jack Harkness. We're tracking someth– er, someone," she corrected quickly, "and thought you might be it. Him."

"You police officers, then?"

"In a manner of speaking," Jack replied before quickly moving on. "Who else is working here today?"

"Just me. Usually wouldn't be here either, but with all the repair work that still needs doing before next week there weren't any way 'round it."

"Next week?"

"Park opens for the season in a few days time."

"Thank heavens for small mercies," Jack breathed as he focused his attention on one of the several towering serpentine pipelines visible in the near distance. "I think it's about time you called it a day, Mister…"

"Burton. Harold Burton. And I've still got a load of work to do."

"Not today you don't," Jack replied shortly as he swept through the cluttered room, out the interior door and into the water park itself.

Martha gave Harold a sympathetic smile. "Sorry about that. He gets a little single-minded when we're on a case."

The little man eyed her warily. "What sort of case would that be, then?"

"A dangerous one," Jack's disembodied voice called from outside. "Martha, let's go!"

Martha sent a last parting smile over her shoulder as she hurried past the bewildered handyman and into the park. "Don't worry! We'll have everything sorted by tomorrow!"

 

* * * *

"Jack! Hold on!" Coming up beside him, Martha saw that he was staring intently at the locator with a puzzled expression. "What is it?" she asked, peering over his shoulder.

"According to this, we should be practically on top of it," he replied. "But," he paused, raising his eyes to do a cursory search of the surrounding area, "I don't see anything."

Martha turned in a slow, deliberate circle, taking in the shuttered concession stands, vacant sun loungers, and empty thoroughfares of the complex. There was no other sign of movement or life in the area, no sound except the whipping of the sea wind, the lapping of the water in the splash pools, and the lone cry of a gull. Martha's eyes were pulled skyward by the sound and she watched the bird as it wheeled in the turbulent air above the serpentine channels of one of the park's taller waterslides.

She cocked her head to one side as she considered the structure looming high above them. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong place," she suggested, pointing to a gated stairway leading up to the slide even as she started walking determinedly towards it.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Jack called out, grabbing a hold of her arm to stop her. "Just a second, Calamity Jane." He pulled a small aerosol can from his coat pocket and handed it to her.

"What's this?"

"Weevil-grade pepper spray, more or less. It won't do much more than slow it down, but that's certainly better than nothing and seeing as you've come on this little jaunt of yours unprepared…"

"Not unprepared. I may work for U.N.I.T but that doesn't mean I do everything their way."

"I've gotta tell you, for someone who's trying to forget about the Doctor, you just sounded a hell of a lot like him."

"He might not have been right about everything Jack," Martha replied solemnly, "but he was right about the things that really mattered."

Jack paused before replying tightly, "Not everything. Let's go."

Martha watched with dismay as he stalked off in the direction of the slide which was situated on the far side of the promenade. With a sigh, she started after him, tucking the small spray canister into her back trouser pocket. "Anything?" she asked as she came up beside him to stand at the base of the stairway she'd indicated earlier.

Jack pointed towards the bottom step, where the smudge of a damp, muddy footprint was just visible against the mottled grey surface of the tread. "Someone forgot to wipe their feet."

Martha's gaze rose, following the steep path of the slide's stairway to a latticed landing some fifteen meters above the ground. "It's hard to see much of anything from down here."

"Well, Doctor Jones, you know what that means."

"Jack, are you sure that's such a good idea? For all we know it's up there watching and waiting for us to go up there after it."

"I think you're giving it a lot more credit than it deserves."

"Jack—"

"Up we go!" Jack called out with a smile before stepping over the gate and trotting up the stairs.

Martha's eyes lingered on a sign standing by the slide entrance, its bright yellow lettering proclaiming the slides name: 'Wild Kamikaze'. Shaking her head, she carefully clambered over the gate and started up the stairs. "Fitting," she muttered as she caught up with Jack, whose pace had slowed considerably. Revolver at the ready, he was now taking each step carefully, his eyes darting back and forth, searching for any sign of activity as he neared the landing.

Catching a flutter of movement out of the corner of his eye Jack immediately stopped, raising a hand behind him to signal Martha to do the same. Martha's grip on the stairway railing tightened imperceptibly as Jack moved up one step, two—

\--and abruptly jumped back with an undignified yelp as a large gull swooped out from the landing, missing Jack's head by only a few centimeters and taking flight with a loud, perturbed screech. "Not our weevil, then," Martha said somewhat smugly, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Ha-ha. You're a real wit."

"Oh, come on Jack. Even you have to admit—" Martha paused suddenly, her eyes narrowing as she studied the platform above.

"Never."

"Jack…"

"Well, not to something like this, at any rate."

"Jack," she said again, this time more insistently, directing his now captured attention upwards to the landing with a lift of her chin. "Something else is moving around up there."

Jack nodded, his joking demeanor of only a second ago now replaced with a deadly seriousness as he turned and again began to make his way up the stairs with Martha following close behind.

Reaching the final step, Jack paused for only a moment before stepping up and wheeling around quickly to survey the wide expanse of the landing, which appeared empty except for a tall wooden lifeguard's chair set against the far railing.

Cautiously he moved forward, waving with his free hand that it was safe for Martha to follow. Together, they conducted a quick search of the landing.

"There's nothing here," Jack finally said, lowering his revolver to his side and turning to face her.

"I'm sorry Jack. I could have sworn I'd seen something," she said, frustration evident in her voice. "Maybe it climbed down the sl—"

Martha never had a chance to finish the sentence.

From out of nowhere the Weevil rushed at her, teeth bared and hissing menacingly. Jack barely had time to react before it had crossed the landing and knocked Martha to the ground. "Martha!" On instinct Jack took aim but did not fire, unwilling to take the risk of hitting Martha as she fought to free herself from the Weevil's grasp.

"Damn it!" Shoving the weapon into his waistband, Jack jumped into the fray, grabbing hold of the Weevil's jumpsuit collar and yanking it roughly up off Martha. Gasping for breath she struggled to her feet as Jack continued to grapple with the creature, finally freeing one arm long enough to rear back and land a solid punch across its jaw, knocking the Weevil off balance and forcing it to relinquish its hold.

Seizing her opportunity, Martha pulled the pepper spray from her back pocket, quickly took aim and sent a spray of foul-smelling liquid into the stunned Weevil's face. The creature howled in pain, staggering backwards several steps as it swiped ineffectually at its eyes. Rushing up from behind, Jack wrapped an arm around the Weevil's beefy neck in an attempt to pull the irate alien to the ground. The Weevil fought back wildly, clawing at Jack's restraining arm and throwing its weight back and forth violently, in an attempt to dislodge him.

Finally it lurched forward abruptly, breaking Jack's hold and propelling it uncontrollably across the landing. Martha had no time to get out of the way; she had only a moment to meet Jack's panicked gaze before the creature rammed into her, carrying the both over them over the edge of the landing and down into the plastic duct of one of the water slides.

"No!" Jack raced to the mouth of the slide, the sound of Martha's frightened cry and the Weevil's aggravated moans echoing loudly in the tight circular tunnel. He didn't think, didn't hesitate before diving into the pipeline after them head first.

As he picked up speed, Jack reached out a hand to try and slow his momentum, only to snatch it back when it caught painfully on the rough edge of the pipe seam. The conduit curled abruptly to the left, tossing him up and slamming his body into the side of the slide pipe. Next, a sharper twist to the left that sent him tumbling head over heels into a steep vertical decline.

Without warning the slide opened to the elements and Jack was hit with a blast of chilly, clear air as he continued to skid downwards at an ever-increasing speed. With effort he raised a hand to shield his eyes to try and get his bearings.

It happened in an instant; Jack was spat from the mouth of the slide into the splash pool below, his momentum pitching him forward into something unexpectedly solid he realized an instant too late must be Martha.

He had no chance to warn her – so they both plunged under the surface of the water in a tangle of arms, legs and half-finished exclamations. Jack was the first to emerge, spluttering, from the pool's shallow depths, casting about wildly to see Martha's head break the surface a second or two later, coughing loudly as her body worked to expel the unexpected water from her lungs.

Still trying to catch his breath, Jack slogged his way through the water to her, eyes scanning for but not finding any trace of their quarry. Placing a steadying hand on Martha's arm, Jack dipped his head to meet her eyes. "Martha, are you okay?" She nodded as she struggled to her feet then abruptly pitched forward as her legs gave out beneath her.

"Woah!" Catching her against his chest, Jack held her to him as he guided them both through the chilly water to the side of the pool.

"Are you all right?" he demanded again as he settled her on the edge of the pool and vigorously rubbed his hands against her arms to warm them. Martha, still gasping for breath, could only nod tightly in response. "You're sure?" he persisted, reaching up to brush a lock of dripping hair from her forehead even as his gaze shifted to again search the area behind her for their missing prey.

"Go," she rasped. "I'll be fine."

Jack's eyes swung back to meet hers, his reluctance to leave her made clear in the tense lines of his face. Martha gave him a wobbly smile. "Time to be the dashing hero yet again, Captain Harkness."

"Hey, someone's gotta do it," he said with a relieved grin before pulling himself awkwardly out of the water. Pulling a curled length of metal wiring from one of his coat pockets, Jack hurriedly shed the sodden garment at the poolside and dashed off in pursuit, following the promenade as it curved away, back towards the entrance to the park.

As he rounded the bend, he caught sight of the alien as it shuffled determinedly across the pavement. Breaking into an all-out run, Jack yelled, "Hey!" and saw the Weevil wheel around in surprise, then watched it veer off to the right towards the ticketing booth where he and Martha had entered the park earlier in the day. Jack changed course as well, his eyes tracking ahead to the park entrance where he was relieved to see that the main gate was chained and padlocked shut.

Upon reaching it the Weevil grabbed at the barrier, rattling it to and fro with such force that the sound reverberated loudly through the empty park. Jack skidded to a halt at the edge of the entrance plaza just as the Weevil gave a final bay of frustration and, abandoning its efforts, charged to the right, making a beeline for the ticketing booth just a few meters away. Jack quickly reached for his revolver but when he tried to pull it from where it was tucked into his waistband it resisted, catching on the sodden weight of the fabric. By the time he had pulled the weapon free, the creature had made it to the door and slipped inside. "Damn it," Jack muttered angrily as he jogged across the brickwork patio in pursuit.

Coming to the threshold, Jack thumbed off the safety on his gun and took a careful step into the gloomy interior. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see that the space was very much at it had been earlier in the day; Mr. Burton seemed to have taken Jack's suggestion to heart and left the park straight away, a decision that now made things easier for everyone involved.

A scraping sound drew Jack's attention to the far side of the room, where despite the deep shadows he could just make out the familiar profile of his quarry, partially hidden behind an open cupboard door. He inched forward cautiously, raising his gun when the Weevil began to hiss at him menacingly. "C'mon," he cajoled softly as he continued his approach, pulling the length of the metal tape he'd retrieved earlier from his trouser pocket with his free hand. "Let's just get these restraints on you and then we can all go home."

The Weevil growled low in response before rushing out from its hiding place, charging clumsily across the room, teeth bared, towards Jack. Startled, he pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Desperately, he pulled again – still nothing.

Muttering a curse Jack threw aside the waterlogged gun and jumped out of the path of the Weevil, narrowly avoiding it as it lumbered past. Circling around, he cast his eyes about the room in a desperate effort to find some other means of protecting himself even as the Weevil turned around and prepared to charge again.

Abandoning his fruitless search, Jack offered the irate alien his most broad and winning smile. "I'm sure we can work something out, here. How about a season pass? A year's supply of candy floss? What do you say?" His adversary merely snarled in response. "Okay, maybe not, then."

A flicker of motion from just beyond the building's doorway caught Jack's attention, but before he was able to discern what or who it might be the Weevil howled furiously and took a menacing step forward.

As the alien prepared to attack again, a form rose up from behind the unsuspecting creature, cast into heavy shadow by the light coming from the open doorway behind the Weevil. Jack could just make out the oblong silhouette of a wrench as the figure lifted its arm, silently stepped forward and brought the full weight of the tool down upon the Weevil's head.

The creature dropped to the ground, unconscious, and Jack breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Martha?"

Stepping into the room, Martha gave Jack a knowing smile as she rhythmically tapped the wrench against her open palm. "Might not be sonic, but it seemed to do the job, wouldn't you say?"

"Not a screwdriver, either, but I get the point."

"Good." Bending down, Martha picked up Jack's revolver from where it had fallen and handed it to him with a smug smile. "Now let's collect our friend and head for home. I've had quite enough of the sea air for one day, haven't you?"

 

* * * *

Running a hand through his hair, Jack bounced up the final few steps to his office, stopping short in the doorway at the sight that greeted him.

"Hey, hey, hey! Feet off the desk. This is a serious place of business."

"Oh, please," Martha replied playfully, giving him an indulgent smile as she removed her feet from the corner of his desk. "All settled in, then?"

"Indeed. I think our girl Janet has taken quite the shine to him."

"Janet?"

"Our other resident Weevil. Who knows, maybe you and I will get to stand up for them at their wedding."

Martha merely rolled her eyes in response.

Adopting a pointedly casual air, Jack leaned his weight against the door frame as he folded his arms across his chest. "So, back to London, then?"

"Back to London," Martha confirmed with a nod as she leaned forward in her chair. "You know the drill: always another unexplained event to account for, another alien to track down—"

"Another dragon to slay."

"Same old boring life."

They both regarded each other silently for a moment, the words lingering expectantly in the space between them. Jack stepped away from the doorway, coming to stand on the immediate opposite side of the desk from Martha. "Not _so_ boring," he offered somewhat hesitantly, his eyes never leaving hers.

Martha's features softened into a gentle smile as she continued to hold his gaze. "Nah. Kind of exciting, actually."

"It can be exciting here too, you know."

"I'm not sure I'm quite ready for Torchwood Three's special brand of excitement, Captain Harkness." Martha rose from the chair and made her way slowly around the desk to stand beside him. "But thank you for the offer."

"Anytime, Doctor Jones," Jack replied softly as he enfolded her in a warm hug.

The two stood, comfortably wrapped up in one another's arms, Martha's head tucked snuggly into the crook of Jack's neck.

And that's when they heard it; faint at first, slowly building in volume with each pulse of otherworldly sound. "Jack?" Martha pulled out of the embrace, looking up at him in wonder. Jack took her hand in his, and together they walked with slow, hesitant steps to his office window to look down onto the main floor of the Hub, each hardly able to believe what it was they were seeing.

The TARDIS was materializing no more than ten feet from the foundation of the Roald Dahl Plass fountain.

No sooner was the familiar blue box settled and solid then the door was thrown open. But instead of the familiar freckled and pinstriped form of the Doctor, a wholly unfamiliar, frazzled-looking, ginger-haired woman emerged. She looked about the space wildly, yet the moment her eyes alighted on Jack and Martha, watching her with a mixture of trepidation and confusion, her expression became fierce.

"Well, don't just stand there, get down here and _do_ something!" she roared. "And one of you lot better know a thing or two about Martian medicine or else we're all stuffed!"

 

*fin.*


End file.
